


Power

by Cephy



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-12
Updated: 2006-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Rufus discovers the Turks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power

Rufus rubbed at his eyes, groggy but determinedly awake. The sky outside his window was still mostly dark, and it was so tempting to just-- but he would never get anywhere if he didn't learn discipline, if he let himself sleep the day away. Most people were at a disadvantage when they first woke up, and if he could use that then he would. Would train himself to be alert early, to be at his best while others were just that little bit weaker.

Today was harder than most, though, because it came after one of those all-night alerts-- death threats, bomb warnings, who knew what it was _this_ time. He often thought they were just a ploy by his father to make him scared, since nothing ever actually _happened_. But nonetheless, there was a Turk sleeping on his couch, a bodyguard on duty. "Suitable precautions," his father had said. "Just in case." Carefully leaving out just what it was in case _of_, letting him imagine. And the Turk had looked at him with expressionless dark eyes.

Rufus rather suspected he was supposed to be afraid of _him_, too.

The Turk was awake and buckling his belt when Rufus walked through the door, standing there shirtless with his hair falling down his back. The sight was unexpected enough that Rufus _almost_ apologized-- almost backpedalled into his bedroom and tried to pretend he wasn't awake yet, just for a few minutes longer-- but there was no way that the man hadn't heard him come in. And it wasn't like the man seemed embarrassed at all, his movements still unhurried as he reached for his shirt.

Rufus' eyes narrowed. And it was _his_ apartment, after all.

So Rufus kept moving forward, instead, and that's when he saw the scars. Small round marks on the Turk's shoulder, a ragged line up his side. Dozens of thin white stripes all over, vivid against the darker skin. Rufus found himself staring, fascinated-- knowing that this man had got those scars in the line of duty. Had bled, had felt pain, had possibly needed to be hospitalized-- on orders. His father's orders.

But that wouldn't last forever, a little voice whispered to him. Someday it would be _his_ orders, and this man would bleed and hurt for _him_.

The Turk turned, buttoning his shirt, and looked Rufus in the eyes. Cool, professional, unflinching.

This man, Rufus thought, would _die_ for him.

And the thrill of power in that thought made him shiver.


End file.
